


This Possibility of More

by paperpenpal



Series: Together, As A Promise [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff, Marriage, No Beta, Post-War, Sylvain realizes he wants kids, first with your bro, not quite dadvain, self indulgent, talking about children, technically a sequel but can stand alone, then with your wife, they live in fhirdiad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29814276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperpenpal/pseuds/paperpenpal
Summary: "Sylvain,” Dimitri starts, but then he pauses as if thinking better of it.Sylvain shifts again.  For a moment, he considers letting it go but the tension that coils in his shoulders releases with a heavy sigh.  “You can ask, Dimitri.  It’s okay.”Dimitri still seems unsure but nods slowly.  “Do you want children, Sylvain?”
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Together, As A Promise [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588891
Comments: 17
Kudos: 47





	This Possibility of More

**Author's Note:**

> It is technically part of a series but it can also stand alone.

Against the castle courtyard, the sun casts its bright, warm light onto the garden where spring flowers bloom. The season is here in earnest, a welcome breath after long, dark months of cold winter.

Sylvain did not have the worst of it. The worst of it would be further away in Gautier, where his father and mother stay, or perhaps down south in Galatea where very little grows. In comparison, winter in Fhirdiad is quite nice, bundled in the glow of victory and the high hopes of permanent restoration.

His first full year in Fhirdiad has been healing. Sylvain has been counting all his good days. There are much more of them now.

There are still a great many things that plague him. There are still losses he carries and feels in his heart that he is sure he will never truly shake free. In truth, he has no desire to. They serve as a reminder to move forward, to pave a future towards long-lasting peace, and to honor those lost.

It is all very idyllic. It is also not always probable. 

Some days are harder. Some days, a version of that drowning boy in that deep and dark well clambers with frozen fingers against the brick walls of an old heart, trying to drag him back down. Some days, Sylvain wakes from dreams with a start to reach for the dagger he keeps bedside, sweat-slicked and gasping hard breaths.

But on those days when he cannot carry himself on his own, Ingrid is there. She parts the hair curled onto his forehead with her fingers and soothes his breaths with the gentle touch of a strong heart. 

It always works. At least to some degree. Sometimes it’s harder.

Sometimes, he does it for her. 

Today though, there is no need for that. Today, when Sylvain leaves the office of the King and makes his way to the garden, he feels lightness in this new body of his. Every day that passes, he shakes a little bit of the soldier away. His war wounds have long healed, his scars are lightly fading, he does not carry his lance with him any longer. He has sent it back to Gautier for his father to carry. Sylvain has no desire to forge the future with blood. He will do it with his words instead.

It’s a nice day today. He rarely has the chance to enjoy the sunlight here in Fhirdiad, not when he has so much to do, not when he’s usually stuck behind closed-door meetings next to the King. It is even rarer that he has a chance to cross Ingrid’s path while the sun is still out. She’s usually off with her battalion elsewhere or on patrol. Occasionally, he might see her when she reports in, but they rarely have time for each other when there is work to be done.

There is still so much to do. He does not mind it, although he does miss working with her more closely. He does not, however, miss the fighting and the fearing for her life. 

Lately though, Ingrid has been on the grounds a lot more. He’d catch her in the courtyard in the afternoons, going through drills with several young trainees. Sylvain’s not entirely sure how she got roped into teaching a group of teenagers pegasus and lance maneuvers but he cannot think of anyone better fit to do so. Ingrid might not always have the gentlest demeanor but she is one of the greatest riders they have and she is fair, even when she is demanding. The girls especially seem to love her.

She’s noticed him watching a few times and waved him off when she’s in the middle of things. Sylvain does not mind. He is content enough to see her like this, hiding smiles behind her sharp words as she pushes her students further. 

He has made a habit of watching her from afar. She has teased him for it at home. He does not bother to hide it. As busy as he is, he tries to find excuses for a little break around this time now that he knows she will be here. And, if the giggles of her students amuse him, then that’s just a bonus. 

Mercedes once told him to take joy in when he can. He’s taken that advice to heart.

“I knew she would be good with them.” A voice from behind him chimes. Sylvain only startles a little in surprise, a marked improvement from when he used to automatically draw his blade. It would not do to wield a weapon against his King in the middle of the courtyard. 

“Your Majesty,” Sylvain greets, tipping his head towards his friend, although he does not adjust his position from leaning against a pillar to stare out at his wife. The King does not seem to mind. 

“It’s just the two of us, Sylvain. No need for such formalities.”

Sylvain shrugs. “You never know who might be listening.”

Not that Dimitri ever cared for such things. Although he probably should. Then again, Sylvain probably shouldn’t be leaning so casually in the courtyard openly staring at Ingrid, barely sparing a glance to his sovereign. 

“I confess that I am still not used to hearing you refer to me as such.”

“You never liked ‘Your Highness’ either and we called you that for two decades.”

“I would much prefer it if you called me by my name. Even Ingrid does it more often now.”

“I doubt she does it in public.” 

Sylvain fixes his gaze on Dimitri who frowns. “I suppose that’s true.”

“It’s not that I have a problem calling you by your name, Dimitri.” At his name, Dimitri smiles, although it is faint. “It’s that it’s pretty funny watching you forget to react to ‘Your Majesty.’”

“It’s an adjustment.” Dimitri sighs. “I’m getting there.”

There’s a quip somewhere in Sylvain. There’s a joke that he could probably reach for to tease the King, but the afternoon sun has Sylvain feeling lazy. Anything he can think of isn’t worth the effort to find. There will be more opportunities to make fun of Dimitri now. There is time now.

The sound of applause takes Sylvain’s gaze back to Ingrid. He catches the tail end of her demonstration and Ingrid stands in a ready stance, looking very much like the warrior she is.

“They adore her,” Dimitri observes. 

“She likes them too,” Sylvain says without taking his gaze away from Ingrid. “She was hesitant at first but she’s warmed up to them a lot.”

“I had a feeling,” Dimitri says. “Although it took a lot of convincing before she finally said yes.”

Sylvain’s head snaps to Dimitri’s. His friend is watching Ingrid too with a small smile on his face. Once maybe, Sylvain would have been jealous but now he can’t muster anything other than pride, for Ingrid and for Dimitri. “This was your idea?” 

“Sort of.” Dimitri shrugs. “I took them in but I wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. Back at Garreg Mach, we had Byleth but everyone is far too busy now to keep careful watch over them. I noticed them admiring the pegasi and Ingrid mentioned something about how they could learn to fly and care for them. It just made sense to ask her to do it.”

Sylvain snorts. When he had asked Ingrid about it, she had shrugged and said that she’d been assigned to the children. “Bet she loved that.”

“Like I said, it took some convincing. But- “ Dimitri gestures back towards the group, “-turns out they like Ingrid way more than the pegasi.”

“I think Ingrid might like them more than she likes me.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

Sylvain grins. “I’m the trouble. She’s the paradise.”

Dimitri’s laugh is so loud that it startles the courtyard. Ingrid raises an eyebrow towards them before commanding the attention of her trainees with a sharp whistle. Only she could capture the attention of teenagers away from the King. 

“Sylvain, that was terrible,” Dimitri teases when he recovers. “I have no idea how she puts up with you.”

“I’m just lucky she does.”

They quiet for a second, watching Ingrid with the kids and enjoying the rare moment of peace away from their incredibly busy duties. All twelve of Ingrid’s disciples are all in formation now. How Ingrid managed that, Sylvain will never know. He watches as she walks around them, observing their stances and making careful gentle but firm corrections.

“I fear that I might have made myself a battalion of smaller Ingrids” Dimitri says, “but I suppose the Kingdom can sleep more easily if that’s the case. That being said, they are rather young for this.”

Sylvain’s heart swells at the thought of smaller Ingrids and then drops at the thought of more children fighting battles they shouldn’t have to. He clears his throat. “Yeah, well-” he shrugs “-I think they mostly just idolize her. They’ll grow out of it, or maybe they won’t. Ingrid’s pretty great. The kids love her.”

Dimitri eyes Sylvain in silence for a moment. Sylvain shifts under his gaze. He knows Dimitri well enough to see that he is contemplating whether or not to indulge in a curiosity. 

“Sylvain,” Dimitri starts, but then he pauses as if thinking better of it. 

Sylvain shifts again. For a moment, he considers letting it go but the tension that coils in his shoulders releases with a heavy sigh. “You can ask, Dimitri. It’s okay.”

Dimitri still seems unsure but nods slowly. “Do you want children, Sylvain?”

He expects the question and yet it somehow still catches him off-guard. It’s something he’s been thinking about a lot lately. Probably because he’s seen Ingrid like this, probably because everything seems possible in the new future but it is not something he has allowed himself to verbalize. He has not even talked to Ingrid about this. He has  _ especially _ not talked to Ingrid about this. He is a little afraid it might be because he is not used to peace and how it feels. 

“I- “ he starts but then when he glances over at Ingrid again, his mind spins a familiar secret daydream. He and Ingrid in their home here in Fhirdiad with two little red-headed children at their feet, chasing them around the house. “I think I do.”

Dimitri, despite asking the question, seems startled too. His eyes widen and he blinks. “Have you talked to Ingrid about this?”

Sylvain sighs with his whole body. His shoulders slump as he leans further back into the pillar. He returns his gaze to his friend. “We’ve talked about it a few times before but that was a long time ago. Before and during the war. It hasn’t come up since.”

“Sylvain...”

“I know,” Sylvain says, desperate to cut Dimitri off before he can continue. “But, we’ve been busy with all this-“ he gestures vaguely towards the giant impending castle and the shade it casts on the garden, “-and it’s only been a year or so since the war’s officially ended. We still have so much to do. And Ingrid’s only just achieved her dream. I don’t want her to feel pressured away from it. Especially since I said I never would.”

Dimitri frowns. “She can still be a knight and a mother, Sylvain.”

Sylvain shakes his head. “Sure, that’s easy for us to say but she’d be the one carrying. She won’t be able to resume her duties in full while pregnant and then probably even afterward. That could be a year, Dimitri. That could be more.”

Dimitri looks like he’s about to argue but then he simply says, “you’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Yeah, well,” Sylvain shrugs, “I love her. And I want what she wants too. And the whole point of this was that we wouldn’t do that to each other. I made a vow. I’m keeping it.”

“I can’t pretend to know what it’s like,” Dimitri says, “but I feel like I know Ingrid well enough to know that she’d want to at least have that conversation.”

Sylvain twists the wedding band on his finger. “I’m just trying to find a way to say it so it doesn’t make her feel like I’m asking for it.”

“Has she expressed a desire for children before?”

An old memory comes to mind. One of their many bedroom talks. He’s not sure whether or not he should share them. They were always just his and Ingrid’s, but he does not have many opportunities to talk about his marriage with others. He usually just carries it in his heart. It is something he cherishes greatly but he finds himself speaking anyway. “We were open to the possibility of it, but like I said, that was a long time ago.”

“It may be time to revisit that conversation then.”

“I know,” Sylvain says. “But I’m waiting for the right time and the right words.”

He glances back over to the other side of the courtyard gardens, back to where Ingrid is. Her trainees have scattered. It seems their lesson is over. 

“Your Majesty,” Sylvain pushes himself off the pillar, “If you don’t mind- “

Dimitri waves him off. “Go.”

Sylvain grins and hurries off, but stops a few steps into his stride to turn back. “Dimitri,”

Dimitri, blinks, curious. “Yes, Sylvain?”

“Thanks for listening.”

Sylvain doesn’t wait for a response, he continues instead to join Ingrid who is in the middle of a conversation with one of the girls. A red-headed one by the name of Cordelia if Sylvain recalls correctly. Ingrid speaks about her a lot. Sylvain thinks it’s because the girl reminds Ingrid of herself.

He waits patiently nearby as they finish. Cordelia gives him a startled bow as she leaves, scurrying off away with the others. 

“Hey,” Ingrid grins when he approaches. She leans up to peck him against the cheek and slips a hand into his. From behind, Sylvain can hear excited chatter, although he can make out no proper words. Ingrid does not seem even a little phased by it, as she once would have been. “You two seemed to have a lot to talk about.”

“You can tell that all the way from here?” He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, then he adds, “while wrangling your kids?”

“It’s hard not to notice when the King and my husband distract all my trainees.”

“It’s because we’re handsome,” Sylvain declares with a cheeky smile.

Ingrid rolls her eyes. “I’m pretty sure it’s because it’s the King.”

Sylvain’s smile drops to rearrange into an overly exaggerated pout. “You don’t think I’m handsome?”

Ingrid groans and rubs her face with her free hand, but mostly because she’s hiding a smile. “I kind of walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it.”

“Yeah, but it’s fun. Plus you’re cute when you’re exasperated.”

Ingrid pokes him in the side but lets it slide otherwise. “What were you two talking about anyway?”

Sylvain almost startles. He knows to expect this question from her; it’s only natural for Ingrid to be curious but it still sparks a fear that shoots throughout his body. It is not a bad fear, necessarily but it’s a fear nonetheless. He tries to calm his heart with a smile. “Oh, nothing in particular.”

He shouldn’t have tried. Ingrid can see through him so easily now. He feels her squeeze his hand and watches her furrow her brow, but Ingrid doesn’t seem angry. Not really, at least.

“Sylvain,” she warns, although her expression maintains the same lightness it has this entire time.

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “Old habits die hard.”

“Something bothering you?”

He considers this for a moment. “I wouldn’t say it’s bothering me, exactly. It’s just something I’m thinking about.”

Ingrid glances around and Sylvain follows her gaze. The courtyard is empty now. Her trainees have scurried off somewhere, probably the stables, and Dimitri has long since absconded from his spot. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

He does and he doesn’t. He suspects it’ll be a long conversation. He’s still not entirely sorted out the words in his head fully and he hadn’t been lying when he told Dimitri that he is trying to find the best way to say it. He does want to talk to Ingrid about kids soon but his worries are real. He doesn’t want to change what they have now. They’re good now. It took them a long time to be good and there’s still a lot they have to do. 

“Maybe not here,” he decides. “Not the whole thing at least.”

“Can you at least tell me what it’s about?”

Ingrid’s looking at him so openly and so adoringly that his heart stutters. Even after all this time, she is still capable of evoking such gentle affection within him with just her eyes. It works every single time. It will work forever. When she gazes at him like this, his only thought is always  _ oh, I’m yours. I’m still very much yours. _

The hand not holding hers moves on its own. It traces the edge of her jaw and upward to graze against her cheek, where it rests gently on her for a moment before he pulls away again. If Ingrid’s hair was not so well braided, even through her drills, he would have used the excuse of tucking her hair behind her ear to touch her. He has no such excuse here. It wouldn’t have worked anyway. 

“Are you sure?”

Ingrid nudges him gently with one of her boots. “I’m sure.”

“It’s about- “ he pauses for a moment, trying to find the right way to say it. His mouth dries.

Ingrid smiles and sighs. “Sylvain, is it about the kids?”

His breath comes out shakily. His heart is in his ears. It does this sometimes but it hasn’t ever felt like this. Terrifying, but also good. It is like he knows he cannot lose anything and yet he is still terrified anyway. He will not lose Ingrid. Even if she says she doesn’t want any, he will always be happy that she’s in his life at all. Still, the possibility of it still makes his heart hammer away. He is sure Ingrid can feel it in her hands, with how fast his pulse must be.

“Sort of,” he says. “Not those kids.”

“I wasn’t talking about them.” Ingrid’s eyes are bright. She’s still smiling. 

“How’d you know?” he asks.

She ducks her head, avoiding his eyes but reaches out a hand to grab his. Her voice is quiet when she says, “I think about it too.”

“The last time we talked about it,” Sylvain says thickly, “we didn’t know what we wanted.”

“I remember.” Ingrid’s head lifts back up to meet his gaze. “I said I wanted the possibility of wanting kids.”

“And now the possibility is here.”

“Sylvain,” Ingrid’s voice is firm and serious. “Do you want kids?”

It is the second time he’s been asked this today. He still hasn’t found the right way to say it but Ingrid’s question is direct.

“Yes,” he says. “I want kids.”

But it doesn’t feel good. It feels relieving, sure, but it feels like there’s so much more he wants to explain to her. He opens his mouth to but Ingrid stops him before he can.

“It’s okay to want kids, Sylvain,” she says. There’s no anger or disappointment but there is no great elation either. Sylvain isn’t sure what to make of it.

“I just-now just isn’t really the time,” he begins to babble. “And you’ve only just started your career and we’re both out all day and the last thing I want to do is make it seem like I’m asking you for children if you don’t even want any and, Goddess my parents-“

Ingrid’s eyes go wide. Her hands slip out of his and she gestures rapidly for him to stop. “Wait, wait, Sylvain- I never said that.”

Sylvain halts. He tilts his head and furrows his brow. “Said what?”

“I never said I didn’t want any.”

“What?”

“I never said I didn’t want children, Sylvain.”

The courtyard is silent. Sylvain takes a moment to take in Ingrid’s words. When he finds himself again, when his heart stops beating so hard against his chest that it feels like it might tear out of him, he dares to ask. “Do you?”

Ingrid’s smile is small, almost nervous. “I do.”

The joy bursts into his chest. The image manifests quickly. It’s his favorite daydream again. It is a family together. A true loving one where nothing else matters, where crests and crowns mean nothing in the face of love. It is a vision of a lakehouse in Galatea, one that he swears he’ll build her with his own hands even though he’s never picked up a proper hammer in his life, where he will teach his children to swim and where Ingrid will teach them to fly.

But Ingrid does not look as elated. The nervousness still sits in her shoulders and then down to her hands, where they lightly wrangle together. She does, however, still smile on.

“Ingrid,” he whispers. “What is it?”

She sighs and drops her hands to her side. “I do want children, Sylvain. Just...you weren’t wrong about now not being the time.”

He reaches out to her, relieved when Ingrid’s hand receives his. “I don’t want them right now,” Sylvain explains quickly. “I don’t think I’m really ready for that. I’m just happy that we want them at all. We haven’t really said that, I’m realizing.”

Ingrid breathes out a careful breath. “Okay, so we’re on the same page then?”

He nods enthusiastically, his grin stretching wide as he pulls her to him. He will probably be smiling well into the night. “I love you,” he says as he leans forward. “And I’ll love our family too, when we’re ready for it.”

Ingrid’s lips meet his. There’s a longer conversation about this to be had later. There are probably many long conversations in fact, but for now, he is content to be in her arms. He is happy to kiss her in full view of the supposedly empty courtyard as the giggles behind the flowers carry all the way into his ears.

Ingrid doesn’t seem to mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to revisit the conversations that Ingrid and Sylvain have about children and get them to a point where they could eventually talk more about starting a family. I feel like they still have lots of conversations left but I really wanted to write this first step.


End file.
